When We Were Young

2 - the boy

Erik wants to protect that laughter. He wants to hear it again. But all evidence of amusement is wiped from Charles's face a split second after it skipped through the room, as if he had uttered no sound at all.

Shaw's face tightens slightly. "Charles, proceed." His tone cuts through the silence and brings Erik back to reality. The metal disk lying in his lap shakes slightly before rising out of his lap. It's edges spread thin, creating a silver plate wide enough for Erik to stand on. It lowers itself and Erik steps on, squirming a bit before steadying himself.

Charles watches with slight surprise. He still does not make another sound.

"Now Charles."

Nothing happens. Erik begins to wonder if Shaw had lied about Charles having abilities. It would not be the first thing Shaw had lied about. He had lied about promising to teach Erik. He had lied about freedom for Erik. He had lied about not killing Erik's mot-

Erik's hand flys out in front of him. His face contorts into a frown. He hadn't told his hand to move.

I did.

Startled, Erik loses his balance and tumbles to the bed.

"W-what the hell?" His voice is barely a whisper and his eyes frantically search the room for the source of the voice. It had sounded little, small. Erik's eyes land on Charles. It sounded like it had come from the boy. But that couldn't have been right. Erik had watched Charles, expecting something to happen. He hadn't opened his mouth, hadn't said a word. So who had spoken?

"Again." Shaw clasps his hand in front of him, seemingly unfazed. A small smile creeps onto his face. Charles stands by his side, quiet still.

Erik shouts now. "What. The. Hell."

"Oh I did I fail to mention? Charles here is a telepath."

Erik's eyes shift to the little boy. The blues of Charles's eyes are still glued to Erik. They never left.

Hello Erik.

Now Erik can see the little boy in his mind, can see Charles's lips forming the words.

How the hell are you doing that? Erik's mind puts the words together and he hears himself say them out loud as well.

"Being a telepath, Erik, means that Charles is able to control minds. He can control you," Shaw explains, waving a hand at Charles's small figure. "Get up. Again."

Erik scrambles to stand back on the disk he created. His eyes never leave the blues of Charles's. "That would have been beneficial to know prior."

"Ah but that would defeat the purpose and I needed you alert."

I'm really sorry Erik.

Get the fuck out of my mind. Erik imagines himself saying the words with daggers for teeth. He imagines throwing them at Charles. His mind was his own. He was the king there, it was his domain. It was the only thing that Erik had left and he wouldn't let a little boy take it from him.

My mother told me it is impolite to use such foul words. The little figure of Charles within Erik's mind tilts his head in confusion. Such mean thoughts you have.

I said. Get. Out.

I can't.

Charles - the real Charles - slips a smile. It's sad, almost pitying. A growl rumbles through Erik's throat. His balance is slipping, his legs wobbling on the thin metal plate.

"Charles, push him a bit further." Shaw's hand reaches for his mouth, as if he was deep in thought. He probably was. He was probably thinking of all the ways he would punish Erik for not succeeding in this little game of abilites.

He's not thinking about that.

Dammit Charles. Stop. Stop this.

I'm hungry, Erik.

That stops Erik's train of thought. He had been there. Had been so hungry to the point that he didn't care who he hurt, he didn't care wether he made life harder for someone else in the process. All he had wanted was food.

He understands Charles.

Please.

Erik hears his own emotion flooding his plea, and it crashes over Charles's face in a tsunami. Charles stumbles back, his back slamming into the wall behind him. He breaks eye contact, gripping the edges of his shirt in trembling bony hands. He scrambles to stand up straight but he can't quite meet Erik's eyes again.

Something in Charles's behavior reminds him of himself, before Erik realized that this was his reality. Before his naïvety was yanked from his ten-year-old mind and crushed into the dirt.

"Charles," Shaw's tone is steady and low. "Did I not say to push him further?"

Charles's little head bobs and his bottom lip trembles. Erik lowers himself to stand on the dusty floor. His disk dissolves into a slender snake that slithers to the floor. It slides behind Erik, waiting.

"Did I not say," Shaw pauses, turning Charles to face him. " to distract him?"

Charles's lip begins to tremble faster, yet no tears line his eyes. "I did."

Erik's jaw tightens. He knows what comes next. So why is he so scared for Charles?

Shaw's mouth forms a line. It bears no warning of the impending force of the blow he delivers. It smashes into Charles's face, sending him sprawling in Erik's direction.

Anger, pure and white, swells in Erik's chest. He doesn't know why.

His metalloid snake hisses and lunges for Shaw, only to be smacked away with a blunt hand.

Charles looks up at Erik from the floor, cheek already reddening. A minuscule shake of the head and Erik's snake melts into a pool of metal. Erik's hands curl by his sides and his breath pushes its way past tight lips.

"What do you want?" The words taste like poison on Erik's tongue. Shaw smiles, his eyes watching Charles as he struggles to a seated position.

"It's simple. I want you to master your abilities," He points a slender finger in Erik's face. "And I want you..." the look in his eyes hardens as he takes in the sight of Charles. "I want you to know your purpose. Your place." Shaw spits the last word in Charles's wounded face. His shadow follows him as he slips from the room, leaving the two boys in hollowed silence.

No more words needed to be said. They have both disappointed him.